Storytime Blog Hop April 2025 - Before Sunrise

 Hello, and welcome to my second blog hop contribution! Thanks for reading if you do <3

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Lawrence had been working all day when the last body was dropped off. He sighed, watching from a few yards away as the delivery men headed inside the only building on the grounds, then continued digging the grave he was already digging until the truck left. That just left him, and three more graves to dig before the bodies came back to life.

Hours wore on until night overtook the sky. Lawrence finished up on grave number three with about five hours to spare. He’d be cutting it close, but he’d have the last body buried before the sun rose. It was hard work, but Lawrence knew it was necessary work to keep the town safe. And thankfully, due to the diligence of Lawrence’s family, there hadn’t been any incidents in over fifty years.

Lawrence chuckled at himself as he worked, thinking about the story his father told about the incident, that it was all over a broken shovel. As a boy, Lawrence never really believed it though, since equipment inspections were routine and his father was known for keeping important details to himself, but it a nice lesson in due diligence.

As he started on the last grave, the covered corpse illuminated on the ground by the lamp behind him, Lawrence dug contentedly into what he thought was soft dirt. But the dirt was not soft, and the head of his shovel cracked right in half.

Lawrence didn’t panic. Robert would be arriving soon to help him during the nightshift, and he’d have another shovel with him. Lawrence made his way back to main office to wait, wondering if maybe Robert had forgotten to inspect the shovels last week. He waited an hour, but when Robert still hadn’t shown up, Lawrence realized he only had four hours to dig the grave with a broken shovel. At least he was only dealing with one body.

Lawrence grabbed the phone, dialing Robert’s number. He was relieved when he heard the man’s voice but was much less so when he realized Robert sounded terrible. That was the man’s very valid excuse for not coming in, that he was sick with the flu, and would be unable to help that evening. And since it was Lawrence’s family who’d kept the truth of the undead from the town all these years, there was simply no one else to call. Even Robert didn’t know the whole story, and Lawrence had long decided not to burden anyone else with the secret. Of course, that now seemed to be backfiring.

Lawrence groaned, wanting to ask about the shovel, though he figured it was no use now as he wished Robert a good evening, and hung up the phone trying not to actually panic now. Instead, he walked over to the closet, grabbed the shotgun, and loaded it. He grabbed the rest of the shells, stuffing them into his pockets, and headed back out to the last grave. Now, all Lawrence could do was wait.

It was about two hours later when the first rays of the sun started to crest. That was when the body next to Lawrence began to wriggle and squirm, deep and muffled moans sounding from under the thick, gray blanket.

Lawrence stood with a deep groan, his knees not what they used to be, and aimed the shotgun. And almost on queue, when the top-half of the corpse sat up, Lawrence put his finger on the trigger and shot it directly in the head.

The sound reverberated through the hills, frightening birds in every direction. The body was still though, and Lawrence breathed a sigh of relief as the regular early-morning noises of birds and bees returned to the air.

He turned to head back to the office, gun heaved over his shoulder, when he thought he noticed movement from nearby. When Lawrence looked to his left, he saw a dirty, decaying hand burst from one of the graves. Then another. And then another. As more and more bodies rose, he realized his father hadn’t been a hundred percent clear with Lawrence about the undead: not burying a body by sunrise didn’t mean one body would rise, it apparently meant all the bodies would.

Lawrence groaned again, his eyes steady. He loaded his shotgun once more, then aimed and fired at the first undead that popped its head out. Then again. And then again. The shells in his pocket dwindled, and Lawrence looked at the number of graves around him.

He was going to need a lot more bullets.

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Other July Blog Hop Stories Here:

Priceless Treasure by James Clapp

Knot Safe by Barbara Lund

Ridesharing by Gina Fabio

I'm not late. Really, I'm not! by Katarina Gerlach